The Dark

This story contains mention or suggestion of rape, murder and possible mental health issues. None are overly explicit and are essential to the story.



She had known for most of her life about this day. The inevitability of it dulled the dread of something she had insufficient knowledge to understand, yet instinctively knew was evil. Despite her mother’s confused protestations and the servant’s hopeful reassurances she recognised the incomplete rationalisation for what it was. Fear.

Simogen tossed and turned in the soft sheets, and sweat prickled her body, but now, finally it was morning. The dawn, unaware of the blanket which would cast its glorious sunlight into total shade later in the day, blissfully arrived with a pink sky and golden rays coming through the open casement. A servant, her face covered with a silken mask, approached Simogen unspeaking, with fruit and water, which was all the sustenance she would be allowed this day until after the total solar eclipse which had been foretold for seventeen years, when Simogen was still a baby.

Her entire life had led to this moment, this precious day, when she would become the most important woman in the small kingdom of Cunisol, to be guarded, worshipped and feted. For nine months. After which, who knew what fate had in store?

She picked up the water jug, and poured some of the cold liquid into a thin crystal glass then sipped the water, before sinking her teeth into a ripe fig, but found it difficult to swallow. Simogen knew it was vital that she should eat and drink in order to sustain her through whatever ordeal she had to face, and asked the servant to fetch her some grapes. Anything to be left alone again. However, moments later a flurry of young women, led by a stern matriarchal servant called Grania, who Simogen acknowledged with a nod, entered her room, and began to prepare a bath, adding oils and perfume. She began to feel sick, and weak, but Grania was unrelenting, and ordered her to immerse herself in the water before it was cold. After allowing herself to be dressed in exceptional raiment, with her golden hair braided and pinned in an elaborate coiffure, she was permitted to sit alone until the ceremonies began.

She tried to rest. Also not to think. The fear was always there. An image of her mother’s face floated into her mind. Everin, who she knew could only be in her late thirties, looked twice that age, thin and tired. They were never supposed to meet, but she had stolen out in the middle of the night with Grania on two occasions recently, and made her way into the woods to the small, neat house where her mother passed her life alone. Simogen had known who her mother was most of her life, but repeatedly told she must never see her. She had however realised an unexpected ally in Grania who had, for some thankful reason known only to herself, been a go-between. The older woman had arranged occasional meetings, when they would sip wine, and nibble cake, but had little conversation. Simogen was too embarrassed to ask questions, and Everin offered nothing. Grania would sit, and hum, then suggest it was time to leave before the sun rose, and they might be seen by the ever-watchful guards.

However, two nights before, Grania had taken Simogen to her mother for a last visit before the solar eclipse, when the tumultuous event was due to take place. They had tried to explain more fully the circumstances of Everin’s life in an attempt to prepare Simogen for what lay ahead.

The story was cruel and brutal for a young girl to hear. She was of unusual descent, passed down through the millennia. When her time came to bear a child she would be delivered of twins, a boy and a girl. Her ancestors had never failed, and the prophecy always came true. Because of this strange phenomenon, a particular history had developed over the years to ensure the hierarchy, and she would play her part when the time came.

When Simogen was born, she had a twin brother who was named Jarko. At the time when SImogen in turn gave birth, Jarko would take over as king, and the present king would be retired to a comfortable home to live out his days away from the city. He would only be allowed to have a wife, or children after this time. This of course would be the fate of Jarko when Simogen’s son was of an age to take over as king, and her daughter would then produce the next future king.

This system had never failed so far, and had ensured many years of peaceful reign in the city. Nobody ever ruled for more than twenty years, and there were no problems with family disputes over who should be next in line. Unfortunately, the system did not take into account the probable hardship this had brought to the young women responsible for giving birth to the future kings.

There was an increasingly uncomfortable feeling in many quarters about the harsh way the twins were conceived, then the mother of the subsequent twins was banished to live in solitary conditions, and forbidden to see her children. From living as a princess in luxurious rooms in the Palace of Destiny, she would be sent as far away as possible to ensure she had no contact with them from the day they were born. Any communication with the outside world was not encouraged. More unsettling was the fact that the fate of the mother was not recorded once her son became king. It was rumoured that she would never live for long, but the cause of death was unknown.

Simogen could hardly believe what she what she was hearing when Grania had explained with Everin sitting close by, watching her daughter’s face. However, the worst had not yet been disclosed.

When she had time to take in this convoluted plan the first question in her mind had been of course, ‘Who would be the father of the twins?’

She finally brought herself to utter the words. ‘Who will be the father of my twins?’ The answer had been an age in coming.

‘Nobody must know’.

How could this be achieved? Of course somebody would know. Simogen uttered words of disbelief but Grania held up her hand for silelnce. The servant sat down opposite the girl while Simogen’s mother sobbed into her apron.

‘ It has to be a secret unknown to anyone. As soon as a man knew he had fathered the future king there would be chaos. You must understand this my child, the whole reason for this system is to keep family out if it,’ murmured Grania.

‘I can see it could be better if nobody knew, but of course the father would know that he had fathered a baby, or in this case two!’ stammered Simogen.

‘But he wouldn’t know, not if there were three other possible fathers’. Grania spoke clearly, looking straight into Simogen’s eyes, with only a slight wobble to her voice.

Simogen was silent while she absorbed this information. Then a despairing scream came from her, and she pressed her hand across her mouth in horror, and turned her terrified face to her mother, then to Grania who tried to mitigate the situation.

‘Listen child, this has happened for hundreds of years, and it isn’t so bad. You have had a life of luxury so far, now you must suffer just one short time of – discomfort - then you have a nice quiet rest in the Palace of Destiny, waiting for your babies to be born. You will be waited on, and have anything you like for nine whole months! After that, you can marry whoever you like should that be your wish, and live in comfort, like your mother has.

For the first time, Everin interrupted, quietly at first then gradually louder until she was shouting at Grania. ‘How dare you speak those words, as if I have lived an enjoyable existence! The revulsion of that time will never leave me. Four men, all waiting to take their turn, laughing and watching. I could never lie with another man after that! And no man would ever want me! And I have not lived in comfort’, and she wept inconsolably.

‘You are frightening the girl. Shut up you stupid woman. It isn’t the end of the world!’

‘It was the end of my world. Living all these years, knowing what is in store for my beautiful daughter! You are unspeakable Grania. Leave me, I can’t look at either of you’.

Grania had taken Simogen’s arm and led her away.

Chapter 2

Remembering all this tore at Simogen’s heart and brain until she thought she would go mad. She didn’t know whether she would rather not know about what was going to happen to her and couldn’t understand how Grania could stay so steadfast to the plan to ruin an innocent victim’s life. She supposed there wasn’t any choice in the matter, and tried to think of a painless way to take her own life which she thought was the only solution to the problem. Beyond tears now, she sat rigidly and waited.

Grania returned sometime later with a tight look on her face, and sat on the bed.

‘I have thought of a plan. It might work, it might not, but it’s worth a try. You will have to help me, and not ask any questions. You must braid my hair quickly, and help me to put on this gown’. She held out a similar dress to the one Simogen was wearing, although it looked a little older, and was slightly creased. Simogen noticed she was wearing a thick layer of maquillage on her face, and her lips were painted red, but she looked years younger, and was actually quite beautiful.

‘Now, pack some essential clothes and anything precious you need to take on a journey, for … afterwards. It is vital you do not have much, just some warm blankets and any jewellery of value. I have prepared a pannier of food, and there is a little money. You will find a pony from the stables, it will be ready and a stable boy can accompany you, along with a serving maid. Quickly now, there is only an hour before the solar eclipse begins. I have much to do, and there will be a ceremony to get through first. Do not falter girl. This will be over before you know it.’

Simogen’s mind was in a whirl. What was happening? She did as she was ordered, as had long been her habit where Grania was concerned, and gazed upon her servant with astonishment while she waited for more instructions. A little later a guard came into her room unannounced, and took her arm roughly. Without speaking he pulled her outside where there was a strange atmosphere in the air. There was no birdsong, and a tenseness hung in the light breeze. The eclipse had already begun, much of the sun was hidden by a black veil. He took her into the courtyard where there was a large gathering of officials, mostly men, lined up on a newly erected dias. Simogen wondered if she should try to run away, but his hand remained tight on her wrist.

One man spoke in the gathering gloom.

‘We have heeded what has been mooted lately about the procedure we all undertake to secure our kingdom’s safety. We are mindful that some privacy is necessary in order to produce a fine king, and future mother, and to that end we have planned today’s hopeful conception to take place during the solar eclipse, when according to our astronomers it will be completely dark for eleven minutes. We consider this to be ample time for these gentlemen to complete their task.’ He gestured to four men, all leering towards Simogen and fidgeting uncomfortably in a row outside the door to what Simogen knew to be a sleeping chamber. This was usually used for riders making overnight stops when delivering important dispatches or similar, and she knew there was another exit from which they could leave without passing the ensemble in the courtyard.

She shuddered. She could see the nudging, smiling, and general air of expectation on the faces of the crowd. The light had begun to fade even more. Completely dark for eleven minutes. Eleven minutes of terror and shame, then what?

‘Let the future mother descend!’ the spokesman called.

‘What is he talking about?’  It took Simogen several seconds before she realised it was her they were expecting. The guard pushed her in the small of her back. Trembling uncontrollably she made her way down to the doorway, and entered.

‘Let the future mother prepare herself’, came the voice. The four men were pushing and shoving each other now, but were briskly called to order. ‘You have 3 minutes each, no more. Enter the conception chamber singly, do not enter until the guard signals the three minutes are up. There is now one minute to darkness.’

She could hardly see her hand in front of her face. There was no artificial light, not even a candle, and already it was quite dark outside, but pitch black in the room. She groped forward, and jumped, terrified, as her hand was taken firmly.

‘Don’t be afraid’. She would know that voice anywhere. Grania. ‘It is all arranged. Make your way out of the back door without delay. There are two friends there, but beware, it will be completely dark by now. You have ten minutes to mount the ponies which are waiting with them some yards down the hill, then ride like the wind. You will have time to get well away before they realise they have been fooled.’ She thrust a folded piece of paper into Simogen’s hand. ‘ Take this note child, it explains everything. Take my love with you.’ As Simogen stood indecisively, Grania pushed her gently towards the door.

 ‘Follow the road until you reach Banforth. Do not tarry, only to ask them for a change of pony. Make Turson your destination, they will give you shelter… now run!’

She turned away as a man stumbled into the chamber groping in front of him until he found a soft, pliant hand that took his. He didn’t even feel the sharp stiletto as it entered his chest, and Grania dragged his useless body aside as quickly as she could to make room for the next hapless victim.

It stayed dark for what seemed longer than ten minutes. It would be longer than that before the four ‘gentlemen’ were discovered, by which time Grania had reappeared as her usual calm, serene self, the thick make-up washed away and the blood-stained gown destroyed. She cleaned and returned the stiletto to the weaponry case from where she had borrowed it earlier that morning. The mystery of the disappearing ‘mother’, King Jarko, and Everin was never properly resolved. Aliens, Black Magic and the effects of the eclipse were all cited as possible reasons for such devilry but the main result was that the people insisted they would vote for a committee to rule them in future, and not rely on an outdated and unsavoury practice.

Chapter 3

Simogen sighed with relief lying in the hay in the stable of the inn at Banforth next to her mother, and brother, both of whom had risked their own lives to escape with her. They both knew their futures would be uncertain if they stayed, and yearned to be together properly for the first time. Their new ponies, who would hopefully take them to a more permanent home in Turson during the following days, nuzzled contentedly in the hay, making gentle noises. She suddenly remembered the note that Grania had thrust at her as she ran from the building in the dark, and read it as well as she could in the gentle shadows of the evening.

My special girl,

I wonder if you have guessed by now. My conscience could not let you endure the callousness of rape which is so unbearable, as I know first-hand. I am not afraid this time of being taken by four miserable men. Although I survived almost forty years ago, I have been full of self-loathing ever since. Instead of mute acceptance I am taking my own precautions against a repeat performance and I hope I am successful, so that you escape without harm, and I have some revenge on the iniquity of men. If so, it may be that one day you will be free to return to Cunisol but for now, stay as safe as you can in this wicked world. I know I was lucky to have lived so long and that my revenge today might atone in some way for the misery my own daughter suffered.

I pray you have a contented life, and help your dear mother to find her way to the light. Perhaps we will meet again one day.

With deepest love, Grania,

 your grandmother.